


Attempt 196, Partial Memory Wipe and a Coffee Themed Village

by BeaRyan



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M, Partial Memory Loss, Soulmates, TW: implied potential for dubcon but nothing happens, mentions of jalapeno poppers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-08 21:55:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12873816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeaRyan/pseuds/BeaRyan
Summary: Have you ever had a word that's right on the tip of your tongue but you just can't quite reach it?  That's what Michael's done with the Fab Four's memories this time.  He's also put three of them to work in a coffee shop and only given three soulmates.  Not the same three though.  Let's not call him a demon since that's a slur, but he is devilishly clever.





	Attempt 196, Partial Memory Wipe and a Coffee Themed Village

I must have hit my head pretty badly when I died. Everything feels off, starting with the fact that when the dork in a bowtie said I was dead I believed him. That's really distracting news. It's almost all I can focus on. Well, the news that I'm dead and the fact that the chair beside me is empty. Who's supposed to be in that chair? It's weird to feel like someone's missing when I've always preferred being alone. Maybe I'm looking for my purse? I definitely don't have it. Or my cell phone. Ug. I'm going to have to pirate all my music again. Mr. Bowtie is droning on and on, and all I hear is the voice of the adults from Peanuts. My brain is all glommed up somehow. It's like when you walk in the kitchen and you're certain you're there for a reason but you don't know why. Did I need a pen or was I hungry? He's a pen, useful but not really satisfying. I think I was hungry. 

Oh crap. He's asked me a question and I have no idea what it was. Nothing to do but give the standard answer. "Yeah, man. If you think that sounds fair, I guess we could give it a try and see how it goes."

Most of me hopes I haven't just agreed to something insanely kinky, but I'm weirdly man hungry. This dusty daddy isn't my speed at all and yet I'm still keyed up and ready to grab life by the balls, butt or whatever lands in my palm first and then... and then rain kiss like I've finally reunited with Ryan Gosling. I have no idea what's going on in my brain today. This isn't like me at all. I definitely I hit my head when I died.

I follow Bowtie out of the office and he gives me a tour of the town. It's cute in a contrived Disney sort of way. Apparently the Good Place was designed by an eight-year-old girl. I don't necessarily have anything against that, but I just can't see me living happily here forever. There's a precious little café on every corner. Some are focused on coffee, someone cupcakes, and one seems to have a quiche theme, but it all seems like the kind of food that tastes mostly like air, chemicals, and minimum wage employees in matching aprons.

Grandpa Bowtie heads through the door of Latte Café and I let him get a few steps out ahead of me so I can check out the rear view. I definitely hit my head. It's not a bad backside, but it's an old man backside. One of my primary criteria for men is that there's no hint of working out my daddy issues on them. My whole dating system is based around avoiding grey haired flakes. I'm not going to let go of the policy just because my dating life, my whole life, has come to an end.

He's turned back around and he's holding the door and waving me onward, and I just follow. This has to be the weirdest day I've ever lived through, or died through I guess.

"This is Tahani, and this is her soul mate Jason."

The model looks miserable, and the guy next to her is covered in cupcake frosting. A glance around tells me this place doesn't even sell cupcakes. The menu is all ridiculous coffee drinks with 19 ingredients, half of which are foam, and the other half are made in a blender.

I say, "Nice to meet you I guess I'll have a..." At this point I can either just go with a straight up coffee, or I can really enjoy the Good Place. I pick the drink with the longest, stupidest name that's up there. "A double unicorn frappe choco-latte with silver sauce and a crystal rainbow."

For second I worry the model is gonna jump the counter and choke me out, but apparently there's too much Botox in that face for it to hold an angry look for long. So sweetly I feel diabetes kick in she says, "Well then why don't you come back here and make it?"

"I'm sorry. What?"

The guy beside her says, "Michael says you're our new coworker, homey. Welcome to our own little coffee family. We've been waiting for you to work that milk."

I say, "Is that racist? It sounded kinda racist, or at the least it's sexual harassment."

"No, homey. You can't make a latte without the milk. We've been waiting on you. You know how to run the foamer right?"

The fact is I do know how to run the foamer. I worked at a coffee shop for two weeks in high school. By day 10 I had figured out that if I wore a push-up bra half the people were a lot nicer to me. On day 14 I decided if I was going to rely on my upper assets to get through a horrible day of customer service work I might as well do it while serving wings. It's easier to slip wings in your purse.

I turn to Michael and say, "You want me to work in a coffee shop?"

"Yes. Just as we discussed in my office. People find it much easier to transition to the Good Place if their old lives aren't disrupted too much. You were of great service to others as a nun. Here you'll be servicing their caffeine habits. It's not exactly the same, of course, but we don't have any lepers laying around for you to tend to." He pauses, and I recognize the almost visible light bulb over the head that shows up when a dummy gets a dumb idea. He says, "Would you rather I sent you to a place with lepers?"

"Nope. No lepers. Thank you. Given a choice between coffee and lepers, I'll take the coffee."

The model glares at me. "You won't be taking the coffee. You'll be mixing the coffee drinks. I'm running the register, and Jason has shown that his highest and best means of service is in keeping the cafe clean."

"What does that even mean?" I ask.

"It means I eat the leftovers. People go to all the bakeries, and then they come over here, and they just leave stuff, and then I eat it. I wish someone would leave some jalapeno poppers."

I can tell the model is looking down on him for this, but it's not like I've never eaten leftover fries. I mean, if nobody's even touched them, then they're untouched fries. FREE untouched fries. If she can afford to walk away from something like that then she's way too rich to look so ready to complain. She takes a deep breath and I can feel it coming. I wasn't wrong. In her accent that's gotta be fake she says, "Michael, are these uniforms really necessary? The shirt is so scratchy and it's a blended fabric. It feels very unnatural, and it's utterly lacking in style."

"Yes, Tahani, I understand your concern, but, as we discussed, you aren't the only one going through a dramatic change today. We're community and we have to take care of the entire community. Some of people are very comforted when they see service personnel in limp lime green polo shirts and khaki pants."

Tahani manages to pout and mumble at the same time, an impressive feat for a single mouth. "And aprons. I swear this is some sort of quick rumple fabric. I've seen elephants less wrinkled."

The happy little frosting man hands me a shirt and grins down at me from the peak of his sugar high. "You can change in the stockroom. There's all kinds of cool stuff back there, and it smells like coffee." 

"Coffee in a coffee shop? Ya don't say?" I want to be mean about it, to let him know that he's a big dummy and I'm not, but it feels like kicking a puppy. He has no idea that he's even done anything wrong and I'm not sure he has. I really must have hit my head. This whole day just feels off. 

XXX

Half an hour later Tahani is holding court over the register while the line stretches out the door. On one hand I don't mind because it gives me a break from trying to froth all this stuff that won't froth. Almond milk is basically white water, an no one would expect water to hold a head. You want head on water, get a beer or a canoe, but stop wasting my time. 

The downside of having princess chats a lot on the register is that the line is out the door. Eventually all those people are all going to make their way past her and then get grumpy with me while I'm trying to knock out their decaf half-soy coconutty buddy jumbo coffee cuppers. I ask Tahani, "What's the hold up?" 

"Eleanor, this is Chidi. He's also new here, and he's having a little trouble making a decision about what to order." Tahani's voice is shrill and her eyes bugging and I have to hide a smile. She's about to snap, and it's going to be good. Girlfriend is going to use her manicured nails to tear somebody in half. I hate it, but going back to a job I had in high school is merely miserable. I get that death is a big change and maybe we all need to ease into the harps and wings phase or whatever. 

The customer says, "I just don't know," and I finally look up. He's a nerd, not a silver fox in a bowtie type nerd but a Marvel hero in disguise as a professor nerd who's using glasses to hide his hotness. My mind flashes to him in a leather bodysuit fighting crime. Want. Want bad.

Also want to punch the woman who's with him. She's chipper and shoves him towards a decision, cajoling him like a child. "Babe, it's fine. You just tell them what you want. Tell them, Chidi. Tell them." 

I feel the need to protect him like he's the last slice of pizza. "Ease off there, squeaky ladybug. He's having a tough day. He DIED today. DIED. Be gentle with him." 

She looks at me like she's ready to slap a bitch. Before she can hose me and order something ridiculous and time consuming I turn up the sweetness in my voice to Tahani worthy levels. "You two go sit down and I'll bring you something special." 

She tries to get around my plan, but I can dodge like nobody's business. 

"But - "

"But, nothing! I've got this." As I blow her off I sound so happy I might as well be selling jewelry on QVC. Chidi catches my eye and I can feel his relief, feel him silently thanking me. There's a connection there that's electric and terrifying. My normal go to would be to push a guy away hard if he were that openly interested, but I'm definitely working a head injury here. I say, softer this time, "Let me help you. Go sit. I've got this." 

They move a few steps away to one of the small tables that are placed too close together to make it easy to move around but that are still too small to be useful. It's like it was in life, that's for sure, but one of the more annoying parts, just like the light jazz that's been piped in, playing in the background and tweaking my nerves, since I got here. 

I take a deep breath in and out. Make their drinks and move on. Don't think about sitting down with him and talking for hours because that's ridiculous. 

Death is hard, but I've done hard before. I can handle this. 

They're both getting black coffee. It's easy on me, and unlike 99% of what we sell here it actually makes sense for it to be on the menu in a coffee shop. I put the two cups on a tray as that woman reaches across the table and takes my dorky superhero's hand. I think I could hit her from here with an "accidental" coffee spill but I'd probably get him, too. At the last minute I pour some almond milk in his. Too bad I don't have some Ex-Lax for hers.

When I deliver the cups, I don't set them down on the table. I hold them out so they have to take them from me. Chidi uses it as an opportunity to save his hand from from whoever this woman is. I shouldn't care who she is. 

I don't even know him. 

Or her. 

OK, fine. I want to know they are. "So, it's Chidi, right?" 

He nods at me and the smile he gives me has a sparkle, like there's something special about me remembering his name. I guess there is. It's not something I usually do. 

I ask, "And who are you?" 

"I'm Vicky, Chidi's soul mate." 

"Soul mate? Really? That's a thing." 

She smiles, and I understand that she's about to try to hurt me. Good luck with that, girly. 

She says, "Some people have soul mates. You meet them on the first day. If you haven't been introduced to yours then you don't have one." 

Chidi shifts uncomfortably in his chair. "Yeah. Soul mates are a thing. They just introduce you to someone and tell you that you're meant to be together. That you'd fall in love in any situation eventually if they just gave you enough time, but life didn't work out that way. So... now.. they've introduced us and we're together.. forever."

She touches his hand again. "And in love." 

His face scrunches up like he's in pain. 

I ask, "Do you need something for your stomach?" 

"Yes, please." 

I run my hand down his arm, slipping his hand out of hers, and guide him back towards the stockroom. I have no idea what might be back there that could help with a stomach ache, but getting Vicky the Viper off of him seems like a good first step. Also, she kind of looks like she wants to kill me and in a weird way I enjoy that. We know where we stand with each other. Tahani is also glaring at me as I walk out with a guy mid-shift, and it's another point for normalcy. A girl like her is supposed to look down on a girl like me, right? 

I call out, "Jason, make some drinks for a minute, OK?" 

Jason spots me headed to the back with Chidi and gives me a thumbs up. At least someone thinks I'm doing something right, and protecting the professor feels right. Ug. Being dead is so hard. 

Chidi follows me into the small room, and I close the door behind us but still don't let go of him. It's a tight space, but he looks like his skin feels even smaller. I can't recall ever meeting someone so uncomfortable with his own existence. "You're having a rough day, huh?" 

He's still holding my hand. I expect him to pull it away at any minute and I know I'll miss it when it's gone, but for now he's still holding it and we're alone and something finally feels right. He says, "They told me she's my soulmate. They said I'm capable of love, they know it, they've seen it, and she's it, but she doesn't feel like it." 

"You just met her. No one really expects you to love her yet. That would be crazy." 

He says, "Everything about this day is unbelievable. When I asked about the inequality of some people being assigned work in the afterlife while others were consumers I was told to accept it and not question it. When I asked why some had soulmates and some didn't I was told to accept it, act as her loving partner, and not question it."

"You got dealt a good hand, man. Just be grateful." 

He runs his thumb over the back of my hand. "I don't want there to be this gulf between us." 

It hits me like a penny tossed off the Empire State Building. It's not the porny images of him that really blow my mind (although I'll definitely be coming back to those later) it's the other stuff. A picnic. A Christmas. So many books, none of them dirty. A train. A hug. I ask, "Did you braid my hair at some point? I know it makes no sense, but I remember it. Were you a mortician or something and maybe I was still in my body while you were doing your deal?"

He shakes his head. "No. Did you take one of my classes at the university?"

"I never went to college." 

We're still holding hands, and I never want to let him go. I want this closet in a coffee shop to be my entire afterlife if I can spend it with him. This, finally, feels like the Good Place. 

Naturally it doesn't last. 

There's a scream, Jason probably, and then a shrill chastising Nurse Ratchet patter starts going. I think it's Tahani and I think she called him a dear dummy. We open the door and it's definitely Tahani who's spouting off. Jason is covered in pink foam and holding out his hand while a dark-haired woman in a jumper tends to him near the staff sink. Whatever he's done to himself she seems to have it under control. Michael, on the other hand, looks like a guy trying to decide between hitting his nards with a hammer or a blowtorch while Tahani tearfully flips between controlled outrage and vocal self-pity. 

Clearly Chidi isn't the only one having trouble with his soul mate. 

Maybe I got lucky not having one. 

Chidi's hand touches the small of my back as he moves past me to join Vicky, and in that moment I know that I actually do have a soul mate. The nun thing wasn't the only thing they got wrong about me. 

Vicky says, "Come with me, Chidi. We'll go home and make love and forget everything that happened here." 

He looks back at me, practically begging me to save him, but when Vicky grabs his arm and hauls him out, Michael steps in front of me. He's literally, physically blocking my path, stopping me from rescuing the professor, and I wonder what would happen if I gave an angel a knee in the groin. I might get kicked out of the Good Place, and I'm not going anywhere without Chidi. I need protect Chidi from Vicky, but Michael won't let me pass. 

Michael smiles like the kind of grandfather who insists your friends sit on his lap, smiles, and says, "And how's your day going, Eleanor?"

I say, "Get out of my way. I'm leaving. Now." 

"But why?"

"I'm in hell. Literal, coffee making, soulmate lite, soy frappe, double suck hell." 

"How do you keep figuring it out!?"

"Look you sundried banjo picker," I start. Telling him off is going to be the most fun I've had here even if I have to keep it quick so I can get to Chidi, but before I can finish my thought he snaps his fingers in my face and the world disappears.


End file.
